Air Service Boys over the Atlantic eBook

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, if
I can get across,” Jack told Bessie, as he was
squeezing her little hand at separating. “But
then you never know what’s going to happen these
days. All sorts of things are possible.
If I do start across the big pond you’ll hear
of it, Bessie.”

Jack looked back and waved his hand to the little
group standing in the door of the dugout. He
seemed much more cheerful than earlier in the evening,
Tom thought; and as that had been one of his motives
in getting the other across from the aviation camp
he felt satisfied.

“And now for business,” he remarked as
they made their way along, with a frequent bursting
shell giving them light to see any gap in the road
into which they might otherwise have stumbled.

Fritz was unusually active on this particular night,
for some reason or other, for he kept up that hammering
hour after hour. It might be the German High
Command suspected that the Americans were ready to
make a more stupendous push than had as yet been undertaken,
with the idea of capturing a whole division, or possibly
two, before they could get away; and this bombardment
was continued in hopes of discouraging them.

The two Air Service Boys did not bother themselves
about this, being content to leave all such matters
to those in command. They had their orders and
expected to obey them to the letter, which was quite
enough for them.

Once more in their dugout, Tom and his comrade crawled
into their limited sleeping quarters simply to rest,
neither of them meaning to try to forget themselves
in slumber.

When the time came for action they were soon crawling
out of the hole in the ground. As pilots came
and went unnoticed, each intent on his individual
work, their departure caused not the faintest ripple.
In fact, there were two other airmen who also came
out and joined them when making for the place of the
temporary canvas hangars, they, too, having had secret
orders concerning this same night raid.

Arriving on the open field, they found a busy scene
awaiting them. Here were mechanics by the score
getting planes ready for ascension. The hum of
motors and the buzz of propellers being tuned up could
be heard in many quarters.

Those sounds always thrilled the hearts of the two
boys; it seemed to challenge them to renewed efforts
to accomplish great things in their chosen profession.
When, however, they reached their own hangar and found
a knot of mechanics working furiously, Tom’s
suspicions instantly arose.

“What’s wrong here?” he asked the
man who was in charge of the gang.

“There’s been some sort of ugly business
going on, I’m afraid,” came the reply;
“for we’re replacing several wire stays
that look as if they’d been partly eaten by
a corrosive acid. Smacks of rank treachery, Sergeant.”